Maintiens le droit
by Cora Clavia
Summary: And then Constable Fraser came to New York City to consult with the 12th precinct on a case. Or, in which Kate, Castle, Ryan and Esposito learn about pemmican. This is Psolly's fault.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: This is wholly, entirely Polly Lynn's fault.

Set in a sort of time-warped universe in which Castle season 4 lines up with late season 2 of Due South.

Like I said: it's Polly Lynn's fault.

* * *

"Captain Gates, I believe?"

"Inspector. Nice to meet you."

Victoria Gates greeted her with a brisk, firm handshake. Meg smiled. Nice to find a woman in authority who knew how to wear it.

"I trust the trip from Chicago was pleasant?"

"Uneventful, which is always a relief." Meg settled in the chair across from the captain's desk. "You said the detectives currently working this case would be here to update us?"

"Ah, yes - actually, you're earlier than we expected. They're still out to lunch." Gates pulled out a pair of reading glasses, and Meg held back a wry smile. Well, how about that. Gates was over that particular scruple. "Of course, we can certainly go through the paperwork we've got right now." Gates paused. "I believe you were bringing another officer?"

"Yes. My - ah, the deputy liaison officer, Constable Fraser. He's outside. He offered to wait for the rest of your detectives."

"Would he care for some coffee? - water? Does he need somewhere to sit down?"

"I wouldn't worry," Meg smiled wryly. "He makes friends easily."

* * *

The elevator opened, and Ryan and Esposito stepped out, bickering, leaving Castle hurrying after them and Kate shaking her head. _I'm a damn babysitter_.

She stopped short when she realized the guys were all staring at Gates' office. "Guys? Your batteries run out?"

"Looks like Canada finally invaded," Castle murmured, nodding. She followed his gaze. Sure enough, there was a Mountie, a real, legitimate, in-his-dress-reds Mountie, standing at attention outside the door, hat under his arm.

Oh.

Seeing as she was now the only adult in the group, she decided to act like one. So she approached the Mountie, whose posture went from straight to straighter in response.

"Excuse me - you're one of the Mounties from Chicago, right? Here to consult on the Ward case?"

He nodded. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, ma'am. That's absolutely right."

"Detective Kate Beckett." She shook his hand. He had a firm grip. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise, ma'am."

And of course Castle, Ryan and Esposito came shuffling over to meet the guy. "Hey, Beckett. You gonna introduce us to your new friend?" Ryan grinned.

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Constable Fraser, meet Detective Kevin Ryan, Detective Javier Esposito, and Richard Castle."

"It's very nice to meet you gentlemen. My superior officer is in the captain's office right now, or I'd introduce you to her as well." Kate followed his eyes, seeing a petite dark-haired woman talking with Gates. Dark hair in a neat bob, pristine business suit. Looked like Gates had found a kindred spirit.

"I beg your pardon, Detective Beckett. Could you please direct me towards the restroom?"

"Uh - down the hallway there, on your left."

"Thank you kindly."

He smiled a crooked smile and clipped off briskly down the hallway. Kate stared after him.

"Beckett?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you -" Castle stared at her, then looked back down the hallway. "Were you checking him out?"

"What? No." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "No."

"You're blushing."

"Shut up."

"Come on, seriously? Is it the uniform? The accent? You know he can't say the word 'dollar,' right?"

"Shut _up_, Castle."

Esposito appeared, looking back and forth between them. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing."

"Beckett was checking out the Mountie."

"_Castle -"_

"You were. She totally was," Castle informed Esposito seriously.

Esposito grinned. "Got a thing for Nanook of the North, huh, Beckett?"

"Don't you and Ryan have a Justin Bieber album to listen to?" she snarked, trying to ignore her flushed face.

"Now, Beckett. That's not very polite." Castle grinned. "What would that dashing Canadian say?"

Kate decided to simply stalk back to her desk with the dignity she had left. But no sooner had she sat down than Gates poked her head out of her office. "Beckett? Would you mind joining us?"

The female Mountie stood, offering a surprisingly firm handshake. "Detective Beckett? Inspector Meg Thatcher."

"Nice to meet you, Inspector. I understand you've been looking for Mr. Ward too."

"Believe me, Canada would be happy for him not to exist. But since he's out there, we'd like to help lock him up." The inspector glanced back out into the bullpen. "Is the constable still out there?"

"Bathroom, I think. But my partners are out there; they'll take care of him."

"Oh, I'm not worried about him," Thatcher sighed. "I apologize in advance for any Inuit tales he subjects them to."

* * *

"So," Ryan started cheerfully. "You're Canadian."

"That's correct."

"Where are you from?" Castle chimed in.

"The Northwest Territories. I spent a great deal of my childhood in Tuktoyaktuk."

"What now?"

"Tuktoyaktuk. It's in the Inuvik region. My grandparents were -"

"Constable?"

"Yes, sir."

Fraser whirled around, coming to immediate attention, as his dark-haired boss appeared with Gates and Beckett. She had an odd look on her face, a mixture of knowing disapproval and poorly-masked amusement.

Well, _that's_ familiar. Castle felt a pang in his stomach. That's how Beckett -

"Constable Fraser, This is Captain Gates. If you could brief her on our end of the investigation?"

"Certainly, Inspector."

* * *

After a twenty-minute tale that included not only crime scene photos but also smells, tastes, his wolf's reaction (a wolf? - an actual real wolf?), a story involving pemmican and something about dogsleds, Castle was completely lost.

Beckett had a glazed look on her eyes. Ryan and Esposito were staring at the constable like he was speaking Czech.

"...and in conclusion, I believe this evidence clearly proves that this thief is, in reality, the same man we were hunting, first in Ottawa, and then in Chicago."

"Well." Gates recovered first, snapping out of whatever tundra-induced trance she'd been in. "Uh. Thank you, Constable Fraser. That was...extremely...thorough."

"Definitely was," Ryan piped up helpfully. "All-encompassing. Answered all my questions."

"Glad I could help." Fraser smiled that crooked smile again, scratching at his eyebrow. "Ah, Inspector, I thought perhaps I might be most useful to the detectives in the field, given my previous involvement."

"Yes, I agree." Thatcher nodded briskly. "Detectives, if that's acceptable?"

Beckett nodded slowly. "Of course."

"We like picking up strays," Esposito grinned. "That's how we got Castle."


	2. Chapter 2

Kate was halfway through a stack of phone records, looking for a common thread, when the elevator opened and she heard Ryan and Esposito, along with their new Canadian friend, coming down the hallway. Castle, in his chair with his own stack of papers, looked over her shoulder and grinned. "Oh, Canada."

She rolled her eyes, turning to see the three men walking towards them

"Gentlemen, I've very sohrry if I breached protocol -"

"Man. I don't even get it." Esposito shook his head. "Yo, Beckett. We're back."

"Guys. What's going on?"

Ryan flopped onto the desk beside Castle. "Well, we checked out the subway. The attendant didn't see anything."

"But." Esposito sighed. "Our ridealong here decided our investigation wasn't thorough enough. So he picked something up off the floor. And _licked it_."

Castle stared at the constable. "You - what?"

Fraser shrugged, somehow managing to look even more sheepish. "I hadn't realized I was overstepping, gentlemen, and I'm terribly sohrry for embarrassing you."

Kate covered her mouth to hide the laugh bubbling up. _Sohrry_. The poor man. Esposito probably wasn't ready for Sergeant Preston here.

Ryan, who was staring at the constable like he was some particularly bizarre type of tundra creature - was he wrong? - shook his head. "I mean. It wasn't boring."

* * *

Pulling records ended up being an NYPD-clearance-required activity, which left Castle and Fraser without a task. Castle eagerly volunteered to make coffee for everyone, and lacking anything else to do, Fraser followed him into the break room.

"So - wait. You actually live in Chicago, not Canada? You work there?"

Fraser nodded.

"I didn't think Canadian police worked in the US."

"I came to Chicago looking for my father's killers, and due to reasons that don't need explaining at this juncture, I've remained attached as liaison to the Canadian consulate."

Castle grinned. "That was great. Very Inigo Montoya."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's from - really? You don't -" Castle paused. "It's a movie. A really great movie."

"Ah."

Fraser fell silent for a moment, watching Castle carefully measure and stir. "May I ask, Mr. Castle - did you start working here with the police before or after you started dating Detective Beckett?"

The cup almost slipped from Castle's hand. "We - what? Dating? No. Not - no."

"But - well, given your interaction, I'd assumed the two of you were romantically involved."

"What?" Castle's head snapped up, and too late, he realized that he'd just given the world's easiest tell. "No. I mean - no. We're not. Why?"

Fraser blinked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "I'm not sure how to interpret that."

Oh, what the hell. Castle let out a long sigh. "It's not - what you might think. Actually, I really don't know what it is."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Castle. I truly didn't mean to pry."

Castle took a long breath. "No. You're right. She and I - we kissed. Once. And as much as I -" he sighed. "We never talk about it. I keep - replaying it in my mind, just - wondering - what she was thinking. And why -"

He gave up, not sure where he was headed, and stole a glance back at his companion.

The constable looked startled. Taken aback. And, oddly, abashed.

Maybe this overly-polite man had his own untold story.

"Constab- oh. Hello. I didn't realize you were both in here."

Fraser's boss leaned in the door, something hard to define on her face. Castle held out a cup. "Can I offer you coffee, Inspector?"

"Yes, thank you."

Castle busied himself making his own coffee, watching the Canadians out of the corner of his eye. Fraser, whose posture variations seemed to consist of either ramrod or wooden plank, somehow got even straighter yet. Incredible. A medical miracle. "Is there something I can do for you, ma'am?"

"I - no, that's all right, Fraser." Was it Castle's imagination, or were her cheeks just a bit flushed? "It occurred to me - that is, just now - Captain Gates and I are headed for a meeting at another precinct, and we may be gone for some time. Could you call the hotel and let them know we'll be arriving later than intended?"

"Already done, Inspector." Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "Detective Beckett mentioned the meeting, so I took the liberty of checking on our lodgings. There should be no trouble."

Thatcher's face softened, and something like a smile crossed her lips. Castle let out an inaudible chuckle. So much like Beckett - pretty when she was stern, but even lovelier when she let herself smile.

"Thank you, Fraser."

"Of course, ma'am."

She left the two of them in the kitchen, Fraser still staring at the door, Castle thinking about how _we kissed and we never talk about it_ had seemed to hit rather close to home.

And despite his lack of real evidence, he was almost entirely certain it was connected to pretty young Inspector Meg Thatcher.

Wasn't _that_ something. A man falling for a woman who was off-limits. Two people who shouldn't find each other, finding each other anyway.

Some things were truly universal.


	3. Chapter 3

While the men - all of them, which was an amusing sight - headed out to follow some leads, Kate stayed with the Canadian inspector, looking through the consular paperwork.

"So - you normally have Mr. Castle as a ridealong? Is that common?"

Kate shrugged. "Not _common_, I guess, but it happens. We also had an actress once. She was preparing to play me - I mean, the character he based on me - in a movie. It was surreal. She even started dressing as me."

Thatcher looked startled, her eyes skeptical. "I imagine that was an odd experience."

"It was bizarre. Absolutely bizarre."

The Canadian woman nodded. "So he's a novelist - a crime novelist, I understand?"

Kate nodded. "He started shadowing me to learn about my work, and he's sort of...never left."

"I admire your fortitude, Detective."

Kate smiled, her voice getting softer. "I give him a hard time, but - to be honest, I don't know what I'd do without him. He's saved my life so many times. And - as much as he drives me crazy, he makes this job easier to do."

Thatcher got very quiet then, and Kate looked up to find a gentler look on her face. A softer expression, her eyes downcast, a bit of a pink flush on her cheeks.

Hmm.

* * *

After a lot of leads that didn't pan out, Thatcher and Gates finally decided to call it a day. "We'll start again in the morning," the inspector told her constable, who nodded. "Get a fresh perspective."

Fraser tucked his hat under his arm. "Very good, sir."

Castle shot Beckett a look; she blinked, clearly thinking the same thing. _Sir_. Amazing.

"Detectives, Captain, Mr. Castle, good evening," Fraser smiled, offering his hand to everyone. "See you in the morning."

The Canadians headed for the elevator, leaving Castle and Beckett sitting at her desk.

"So what do you think?" Castle asked quietly.

"About what?"

"They're an interesting pair."

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair, stretching her neck out after a long day of reading paperwork. "I guess."

"You know, she reminds me of you in some ways," he pointed out.

Kate frowned at him, bemused. "Do I want to know?"

Castle chuckled. "No, no, it's good. Smart. Determined. And you both drink entirely too much coffee."

She eyed him, but decided not to bother feigning insult. It's not like he was wrong.

There was something about the Mounties. Kate couldn't quite put her finger on it. But something about Fraser's clean-cut, boyish earnestness, and Thatcher's cool, keen intelligence that would suddenly stutter into a blush when he appeared - it gave her pause.

It was far too familiar.

* * *

The Inspector was quiet during their trip to the hotel. Captain Gates had very kindly asked a uniformed officer to give them a lift, and the young man chatted amiably with Fraser through the drive.

Fraser kept an eye on Thatcher, who was quietly watching the New York streets fly by as Officer Blair paused, mid-story. "Ma'am?"

She blinked, clearly startled, and looked up at him. "Yes, Constable?"

Oh. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. "Do you need something, Inspector? You seem, ah - distracted."

"Oh. No. Sorry. Just - thinking." She looked down at her lap, and it was dark in the back of the car, but Fraser thought he noticed the faintest pink blush in her cheeks, something he wasn't quite catching.

"I like the detectives," he offered. "Very astute. They make a good team."

Thatcher nodded. "I like Detective Beckett. She's very easy to work with. Very intelligent."

"She reminds me of you," he said quietly.

The inspector flicked a glance at him, but then looked back out the window, tucking her hair behind her ear, and he thought he saw a faint smile on her lips.

_We kissed. Once_. _We never talk about it_.

Fraser looked back out his own window, smiling politely as Officer Blair told them about the one time he'd been to Toronto, and how much he'd enjoyed the poutine.


End file.
